What Liz Was Really Thinking
by polartwins
Summary: A series of spoofs on various Roswell scenes. Includes mocking, some character bashing, and lots of silliness. Liz Centric with Polar undertones.
1. What are you?

Title: What Liz Was Really Thinking  
>Disclaimer: The characters and concepts of "Roswell" belong to Jason Katims, Melinda Metz, and 20th Century Fox.<br>Authors: Ashita and Whimsicality  
>Pairings: Liz-centric with Polar undertones<br>Category: Comedy  
>Rating: Mature<br>Summary: A series of spoofs on various Roswell scenes. Be forewarned that while they may contain some dialogue from the scenes, they won't follow the actual scenes themselves, but mock them. What can I say, some of the stuff they came up with was seriously ridiculous.

Warnings: If you are an avid Max fan and think the sun rises and sets in him, you are in the wrong story. We mock him pretty heartily in this series of drabbles.

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><p>AN: A spoof of the infamous Max tells Liz he's an alien scene that Whims and I conjured up while we were talking in chat, so credit goes to her as much as to me. Particularly the line about freaks living in the attic. That was all her. The first three paragraphs contain lines from the Pilot to set the scene up.<p>

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><p><strong><em>What are you?<em>**

"Okay, um," Liz murmured, slightly uncomfortable as Max crowded her slightly and shifted on her feet, biting her lower lip, her brow pinched in deep concentration. Looking at him through her lashes warily, she squirmed under his intense scrutiny and wondered what had possessed him to track her down and subject her to this conversation. "So help me out here Max. I mean, what are you?"

"Well," he began, quirking his lips in a half-smile, his golden eyes glimmering with slight amusement despite the sobriety of the situation. Walking away from her, he touched the drum before turning back to her with a slight shrug of his shoulders, a soft light that perplexed her touching his eyes. "I'm not from around here.

"Where you from?" she asked cautiously, biting back an exasperated sigh at the pointless dramatics and beating around the bush. Could he not just answer a simple damn question and spare her the silly 'I am mysterious' act, 'cause it so wasn't working for him. Fixing him with an appropriately serious expression, her brow crinkled with confusion when he looked away for a moment.

Looking back at her, Max simply lifted a hand, his index finger pointing to the roof as if it made all the sense in the world, and stared at her with his glassy 'look into my eyes' dead fish gaze he seemed to think made him look all intent and sexy, but really made her want to giggle. Just barely quelling the urge to roll her eyes, she instead pretended to follow the movement of his hand.

"You came… from…upstairs?" she guessed, cocking a brow and shaking her head as she stared at him blankly, not quite understanding the point of his little gesture. What, had they started a game of charades when she wasn't paying attention? Did that mean one word, one syllable? One point? Actually, she wished he'd just get to the damn point so she could get back to what she'd been doing before he'd rudely interrupted.

Max sighed, looking down briefly, his tongue flitting out to wet parched lips as he fidgeted before lifting his hand to dramatically point towards the ceiling once more, putting a little more emphasis behind the gesture and reaching higher into the air.

"The roof?" she queried, looking away to hide the smirk hovering at her lips when his brow pinched with annoyance and he watched her strangely, shaking his head as he ran his hands through his hair with agitation. Spinning on his heel, he walked a few paces away before turning back to study her thoughtfully. Turning back to him, she schooled her face into an appropriately confused, innocent mask. "I mean seriously Max...you're confusing me."

"No" he growled, walking back towards her as he looked around surreptitiously, he closed in on her, invading her space once more. This guy really needed to learn the concept of personal space. Hadn't he seen Dirty Dancing? Obviously not. Sighing, she met his eyes as he once again pointed emphatically, raising his arm the full length. Ok, point. Pointed? Well, she could name something that was pointed and it wasn't his finger.

"What, you mean there really are freaks living in the school attic? I thought that was just one of those stupid rumors..." she trailed off thoughtfully, moving to put some distance between them since he obviously hadn't a clue of proper social etiquette, and hoped he'd get the hint that she just didn't give a damn about his theatrics. Maria on the other hand…now they'd be a match made in heaven. "Wait…is this like the whole People Under the Stairs bit, because that was a really creepy movie and I don't know how I feel about that."

Max's mouth gaped at her words, stunned by her babbling commentary and dropped his hand, holding them out in front of him in speechless appeal, trying to figure out if she were being serious or mocking him. Which if he had a lick of sense, he'd realize it was the latter. But then again, you couldn't very well expect much from a man that thought that simply pointing to the ceiling adequately explained his origins.

"But you don't have the whole weird-tinged skin thing going on, so you can't be. You don't, right?" she mocked lightly, peering at him closely as if searching for some kind of skin color variation that might prove otherwise. Pulling back, she cocked her head, tapping her lips with her finger as she nodded her head gravely. "That doesn't look like make-up, but then again, with some of the professional stuff you just can't tell the difference."

Still flabbergasted, Max stared at her for a moment longer before shaking his head and threw up his hands in exasperation, his forehead furrowing as he brushed past her muttering under his breath. Storming towards the classroom door, she barely heard his parting shot as the door slammed behind him, making her jolt slightly. "Never mind."

Staring at the door, she shrugged her shoulders before snickering under her breath and shaking her head at the whole scene. Turning towards the band equipment, she smirked as she made the faint outline of her companion's shape and couldn't believe Max had almost spilled his beans before even checking the vicinity.

"You can come out now," she quipped dryly, watching as a familiar head of spiky, dark-blond hair popped up from his hiding place, his brow pursed in annoyance as he stared at the door, shaking his head at his pseudo brother's idiocy. He would have nearly given them up without a thought if Liz hadn't handled the conversation the way she did. And what the hell had been with that pointing thing. Yeah, that said a whole lot, genius.

Moving toward the petite brunette, he smirked right back at her; damn glad that she was on their side and not the FBI's or other potential enemies. Smiling appreciatively, he crowded her back against the music cabinet, watching her intently as he lifted his hand and cupped the nape of her neck, rubbing his thumb over her thrumming pulse.

"So you're aliens, huh?" she asked breathlessly, her heart speeding up as his head dipped towards hers, her eyes sliding half-mast as she stared at the full, pink lips hovering over hers. Licking her lips nervously, she met fiery bourbon eyes, her breath hitching at the heat radiating off his body and grinned wickedly, unable to resist one last crack. "Any truth to the whole probing myth?"

"Parker, shut up," he commanded against her lips, rolling his eyes as his hands cupped her jaw, framing the delicate lines of her face and intent on getting back to their previous activity before Max's untimely arrival, crushed their mouths together, lips melting into a searing kiss.


	2. Different

**AN:** Some lines of dialogue are taken from the Pilot in order to set up this drabble. We do not claim these lines as our own in any way, shape or form. Because...well...honestly, who in their right mind would actually want to claim them?

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><p><strong>Different<strong>

"Hey," Max greeted, shuffling his feet nervously as he approached her, his shoulders scrunched up into his neck as he watched her in defeat, although, she didn't quite understand the dark cloud that surrounded him. But then again, she figured the whole angst and wallowing bit appealed to his need to appear as the perfect Byronic hero.

"Hey," Liz greeted cautiously, barely suppressing the urge to search for something sharp to stab herself, or better yet him, with repeatedly. Not that it'd do any good, he'd just end up trying to 'save' her again and this time, he was sure to get caught with the Sheriff lurking nearby, just looking for a reason to turn him into a pin cushion. Sighing, she was resigning herself to yet another pointless conversation with Captain Clueless when he invaded her space and reached towards her face, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. What the hell? "Oh."

"You had a, uh..." Max whispered; smiling at her gently and fumbling around as if he were searching for the appropriate word and it kept eluding him. Not that it was all that surprising since he couldn't even explain his origins with anything better than pointing and reciting mysteriously that he wasn't 'from around here.' Insightful really. Not. Liz watched him quietly, raising her eyebrows and waited patiently for him to continue and nearly rolled her eyes when he shrugged sheepishly.

Hair Max. It's called hair. It's a fiber made of keratinized proteins, generated when the hair bulb takes nutrients from the derma papilla…never mind, that's far too complex a concept for someone who can't even distinguish his right from his left. By the way the whole disappearing act in bio was genius. Perfect way to say, 'hey, I'm hiding something.'

"Hair thing, right," she replied, barely holding back the urge to sigh once more and squirmed uncomfortably as he crowded her. What is it with this guy? Seriously this whole getting up in her face thing was beyond creepy. The next thing you know he'd be climbing up to her balcony and stalking…oh wait, been there done that when he "saw" her. He's lucky she liked Michael too much turn his stalker ass in. "Thanks."

"Sure…Liz, it's not safe," Max replied, shifting in front of her as he ducked his face, trying to look shame-faced and shy. Oh yeah, now you try to play the gentleman and look innocent. Convenient. What happened to that when you invaded my sanctuary and proceeded to spy on me? Yeah, sure, I believe you Max. And maybe next you can sell me a bridge. I'm sure the Golden Gate would look awesome in my backyard, if I had one. "I mean, for you and, and me to...it's not safe."

For me and you to what, Max? Breathe the same air? Cause given the way Michael's staring at you right now you're probably right; not to mention my brand new violent urges inspired by your insipid attempts at romance, or whatever the hell it is you call a ten-year stalking campaign...

"You and me?" She queried, pulling back sharply, her eyes widening with surprise and staring at him as if he'd grown another head. Of course, the oblivious little psycho would assume that she, a poor, helpless, little human girl, would trip all over herself to garner the attentions of the misunderstood, mysterious alien simply because he tried to put a force on her. Yeah, didn't think I caught that did you, you psycho?

Although, she could name one, sandy-haired, bad-boy alien she didn't mind putting a force on her. He could be as forceful as he chose, any day or night. Mmmm, now there was a yummy thought. In fact, she was ready to blow this joint and take intergalactic relations to the next level if she could ever shake the leech…

"Yeah," Max said softly, shaking her out of her lustful but far more interesting thoughts and he looked away bashfully before turning back to her with what she assumed was his attempt to look soulful, but really reminded her of a deer trapped in the headlights.

"I don't care," she replied, sighing when his face lit up and held up a hand to cut off the rush of simpering, sugary babble she sensed was just dying to erupt from his lips. "No, I really _don't_ care. First of all, there's a you and me? Mighty presumptuous for someone who's never even tried to kiss me yet. I'd wonder if aliens even kissed in your culture, but trust me...they do and oh do they. Well at least one does."

"Huh?" he asked, his brow finally pinching slightly in confusion before he brushed her words aside, obviously set on his path and no one was going to deter him, even that tricky, unwelcome thing called reality. It was like he was reading from a script and nothing was going to stop him from saying his required lines. Who wrote this stuff?

"I really, really wish that this could be something, you know, more, but it can't," he sighed mournfully, obviously trying for the brooding, romantic hero that sacrificed himself for the good of his chosen damsel, but failing to realize that said damsel had bigger fish to fry. Did he not hear a damn thing she said? "We're just..."

"Different?" she supplied skeptically, shaking her head as she stared Michael with barely disguised disbelief, pleading with him to end her misery before she ended up taking off her boot and clubbing Max over the head. Grumbling under her breath when he smirked and remained in the background, she vowed she'd make the teasing bastard pay.

"Yeah," Max agreed, relief lacing his tone that she seemed to understand and quirked his lips in a half-smile, making those violent urges resurge and snapping any patience she had left with the idiot alien. Controlling prick. Shouldn't you have thought of that before you insinuated yourself into my life? Just couldn't let things slip out of your grasp could you, goes with the whole stalker mentality.

"Really? We're different? Who would have thought…" she drawled, cocking her head to the side mockingly and staring at him with feigned wonder and smirked when he frowned. "Glad you informed me otherwise I'd wonder if this whole alien thing was some bizarre pick-up line. Although, that thing Michael does with his tongue...yeah, no way that's human."

"What?" Max sputtered; his face and ears flushing an inhuman shade of red, making the abnormally large appendages stand out even more than usual. Actually, the ears should have been a dead give away to his alien status now that she thought about it – there was no way anything human created that. Well, at least that little tidbit managed to break through his fog of denial for a moment, although she doubted it'd last. "Liz, you and Michael can't…"

"Too late for that, Maxwell," Michael quipped from behind her, startling her out of her reverie and she tipped her face to his, glaring as he snickered. Oh, so now you decide to come to my rescue you perverse bastard. Lets see how hard you're laughing later.

"Been there, done that...many times over actually. Ready to bounce, babe?" he continued mischievously, sliding his laughing eyes to her. Jolting when a steel hand clamped possessively on her ass, she nearly snickered when Max choked and twitched as if he were having a seizure as they walked away. Did aliens have seizures? Whatever. She had more important things to do, like teaching a certain alien a lesson. "By the way, the alien perks, man...you wouldn't believe them."


	3. Czechoslovakians?

**AN: **So, my brother was re-watching the series (ha...got my siblings hooked on it as well) and this scene just made me shake my head and awakened the snark muse. All spoken quotes are taken from Episode #102, The Morning After. I do not in any way claim these quotes as my own work; I was only using them to set up the resulting drabble. Also, we have another joint XO story with Roswell on Roswell Fanatics. If interested, message and I'll give you the URL.

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><p><strong>Czechoslovakians?<strong>

"I mean, what do we even know about these people?" Maria squeaked, her voice pitching into a sound almost indiscernible to the human ear, and making Liz wince internally in sympathy for dogs everywhere if this was anything like the sound they were subjected to when their owners used dog whistles. Really, she was quite amazed that the human voice could pitch that note naturally. Sighing she walked away without answering, as she knew that her hysterical friend would never be happy with any answer she could give her, and fervently wished that Maria would finally take a hint and shut up.

"Nothing. How do we know that they're not three-feet tall, green, and slimy?"

Or not.

Honestly, Maria had been babbling to herself for the past hour straight about Max, Isabel and Michael's otherworldly attributes and not one intelligent observation or conclusion had bubbled out of her mouth yet. She understood that it was a difficult situation to wrap your head around, as well as Maria's fear to a degree, having just found out, but that didn't necessitate the need to ramble on carelessly...it was almost as if she was just speaking to hear herself speak at this point and Liz wasn't really necessary for an audience. Yet, at the same time, she didn't want to be left alone with her thoughts, so she instead yapped Liz's ear off in some misguided attempt to make sense of an event that couldn't make sense in the known natural world.

Hence the term _alien_.

Rolling her eyes she walked around the backroom prepping for her tables, and wishing that her father would allow her to wear earplugs in order to block out the inane chattering spewing endlessly from her best friend; or better yet, would allow her gag said best friend so she wouldn't have to listen to this endless diatribe. Although, it [i]_was_[/i] Maria's own fault that she was freaking out. She had warned the other girl that she didn't want to know this information and the blonde kept badgering Liz until she finally cracked and spilled everything in a desperate hope that she would just shut the hell up.

No dice.

And three-feet tall, green and slimy? Someone has been watching the science-fiction channel just a wee bit much these days. Trust me, Maria dear, there is nothing green or slimy about Michael. I know that one all too well.

"I guess we don't," Liz replied wearily, having said the same four words about a hundred times in the past hour. She didn't think Maria was even hearing them anymore as the words had taken on the same placating tone of the 'yes, dear,' she often heard her father spout in an effort to quell her mother's rising temper. In fact, they really did have the same resigned ring of someone trying to soothe the crazy beast that just happened to be raging fire over something she couldn't do a damned thing about.

"And you know what else doesn't, like, particularly please me?"

No Maria, please _do_ tell me what has you in a twist, as if I couldn't have already figured it out from the hour-long whine fest you have subjected me to; I _really do_ have nothing better to do with my time than to listen to you. Although, that root canal I have been putting off? Yeah, even that is looking much more appealing right about now. It can't possibly be more painful than this conversation. It really was difficult to sympathize when you couldn't even get a word in edge wise, not to mention that an open café was hardly the forum to be addressing this subject.

"These powers," she griped, tailing Liz like a heat-seeking missile, making the brunette surreptitiously rub her temples as she detected yet another string of nonsense just getting ready to erupt from Mount St. Maria; although, there was nothing saintly about onslaught of words that were about to so viciously rain down over her head like so much ash, smoke and rock reminiscent of the great volcanic eruptions of old. "How do we know they can't just like wiggle their noses and poof us into oblivion?"

Ohhhhh, if only that were possible. I could call up Michael and…no, good thoughts, Liz, good thoughts. One must not kill nor sic alien boyfriends on one's best friend, no matter how much they currently deserve it.

"I guess we don't," she shrugged once again, feeling a bit like a broken record. She wondered if she taped herself say those same four words over and over, then just played them back, rewound, and repeated ad nauseum…would Maria even notice that she, herself, had stopped responding? Or better yet, left the room entirely? That was certainly an idea. Tape herself saying something similar at different intervals and just hit play; and then she could focus on something much more interesting but it would seem as if she were truly listening. She might just have to experiment.

"Okay, you're being like so casual about this, I want to choke you!" Maria yelled, apparently tired of being placated. Ah, well, it was fun while it lasted. She supposed she'd have to become a more active participant in the conversation. "Liz, we're dealing with alie…"

Okay, enough was enough. Clapping a hand over Maria's mouth, she smiled weakly as another co-worker walked in, staring at Maria as if she had grown another head. Although why they were surprised at Maria's verbal diarrhea was beyond her; it wasn't like it was an unnatural sight. Maria was usually running off at the mouth about something or another. Of course this time, she chose to babble about, of all things, a secret she vowed to keep; right there in an open room, where people were constantly walking in and out And that didn't even begin to cover the fact that her voice carried once she started rambling.

Quiet she is not.

"Can you please not say that word in public?" Liz asked, sighing when Maria's eyes widened and she looked around nervously, as if she were expecting an alien to jump out and attack her.

Or how about you just say nothing at all? That would be just fine with me because then I might actually be able to get something done; you know, like my actual job serving customers that are probably getting impatient because you've been too busy monopolizing my time with a conversation we shouldn't even be having right now?

Just a thought.

Dropping her hand from Maria's mouth, she pushed out the door impatiently and walked over to service station, hoping she had finally gotten through to her chatty friend.

"The point is that we don't know anything about these Czechoslovakians."

Or not. Honestly, what would it take to get through this girl's head?

And Czechoslovakians? Really? I ask you not to say the word aliens because it would be a tad conspicuous in this town and you come back with Czechoslovakians? A group of people from a country that hasn't even existed for the last ten years? No that wouldn't stand out at all. I mean, I use the word Czechoslovakian all the time in my everyday life. Why, it's just like saying apples or oranges. Not. No wonder you were stuck in remedial science.

Could you not have chosen a word that wouldn't make people raise their eyebrows in question – like the cool crowd? Tourists? Foreigners? Visitors? Wayfarers? Voyagers? Travelers? Sightseers? Hell, even conventioneers would have been a better choice. They may hate you for being lumped into the same category as those brainless, obsessive conspiracy theorists, but at least people wouldn't be currently looking at you like you sprouted a horn from your head because you're using a term that isn't even in use today.

"Are they good Czechoslovakians? Bad Czechoslovakians? We don't know. Are they just random Czechoslovakians? For all we know, they don't have their passports."

"Who's Czechoslovakian?" Alex piped up from behind them both, startling Liz out of her inner diatribe, only to prove her point spectacularly with his question. Somebody just shoot her now and put her out of her misery.

Oh, wait, that already happened and we all saw how _that_ panned out.


	4. Paranoia

**Paranoia**

Liz bit her lip, turning the encounter over in her mind, and then sighed, realizing what she needed to do. Gritting her teeth and reminding herself that this was all for Michael's sake, not to mention her own since she was sure being healed by an alien meant you fell into the dissectible category, she walked up to Max and smiled inanely, cheeks already aching with forced cheer. "Hi."

"Hi." He replied with a suddenly glowing smile, completely oblivious to how much talking to him willingly pained her. "How's it going?"

How do you think it's going Mr. Clueless? I have a stalker Sheriff, a stalker ex boyfriend, not to mention you, all thanks to, oh, you again. But saying that out loud would probably blow his poor little brain, or at the very least make him unleash his ungodly imitation of puppy dog eyes, so instead she took her smile up another notch. "Good." He beamed, clearly assuming that she meant because of him, and she barely repressed an eye roll before getting to the point of this already grating conversation. "Um, was that weird?"

"What?" He asked, confusion wrinkles marring his forehead as she fought an exasperated sighed.

Honestly, how oblivious was he? Their new 'teacher' was A. either lying or just ridiculously incompetent, even by their oh-so-stringent public education standards, and B. far too interested in a ditching teenager, which, hello, was a given in any classroom in the United States. But clearly he needed it spelled out for him so she batted her eyelashes and continued innocently, "That substitute just asked all of those questions about Michael. What was that about?

"I'm sure she was just taking attendance." He said in what he must have thought was a reassuring, rather than depressingly ignorant, tone of voice.

"Right." She replied dryly, not hiding her disbelief very well in the face of his aggravating lack of paranoia, except for whenever he felt like playing the alien in distress card apparently, like when he wanted to feel self-righteous and end their imaginary relationship before it began, ignoring the fact that she'd rather date either of her other stalkers over him. Including the one old enough to be her father.

Despite being a generally oblivious dunderhead, he apparently noticed his failure to soothe her and made another doomed attempt at placating her. "Liz, don't worry about it. No one's suspicious of Michael. It's me."

Liz noticed his stress on the word me and balled her hands into fists to keep herself from spewing a tirade against his unearned egocentricity. Did he really think it would be that hard for anyone with a brain to make the jump from one kid found wandering in the desert being an alien, to the two other kids also found wandering in the desert to be aliens to? And unlike he and his sister, Michael was a relatively easy target, with no parents or friends other than this sucking black hole of self-centeredness, to question if he suddenly disappeared.

Well, clearly she was the stupid one here for actually thinking he might notice or care about anything outside of his carefully constructed bubble world. Her bad. "Okay." She finally said with a smile that implied she actually bought into his crap, incredibly tempted to smack his answering smile right off his insipid face. It was definitely time to go find the alien who actually chose to use his enhanced brain, and see what they could come up with, after a nice heated makeout session to clear her head of this unpleasant little episode.


	5. Has Anyone Seen Michael Guerin?

**AN:** All of the actual spoken quotes were taken directly from episode #102, The Morning After, in order to set up this particular drabble. I do not claim any of them for my own because why would I? I mean honestly, the way Max acted just irritated me. I was so glad when Liz went against what he said and told Michael, because really, he needed to know someone was gunning for him. Also, this was supposed to be before the last drabble, but I had issues trying to download it.

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><p><strong>Has anyone seen Michael Guerin?<strong>

"Guerin," The sub called out, looking around the room when silence filled it. Liz fought back a yawn and glanced around the room herself, noting Michael's empty seat. Well, that was no surprise there. She'd be more surprised if he actually showed up on time, or showed up at all for that matter given his 'dedication' to school. Turning back to the front of the room, she watched the sub – Topolsky wasn't it – look down at her roll sheet and ask again. "Michael Guerin? Is he here today?"

Uh, no. You see, when a student doesn't answer and everyone else is staring at you blankly, it likely means he isn't here. Not to mention that there is a fairly obvious empty desk that people looked at when you said his name; it really doesn't take a rocket science degree to put two and two together and figure out the obvious, now does it?

Unless you're a new teacher.

Liz studied the teacher in front of her critically, noting that she was definitely younger than her usual instructors and that the teacher seemed to have an almost nervous air about her, despite her trying to act as if she knew what she was doing, so yes…she had to be freshly out of school. Great; just what they needed – some fresh, bushy-eyed newbie trying out all the cool little tricks she learned in school to grab the students attentions (like – god forbid – acting as if she knew exactly what they were going through as she had been there herself) and routinely failing because it's math for crying out loud. Who honestly goes to school thinking, 'I can't wait to be a math teacher!' ?

She hated to admit it, but she couldn't wait for Mr. Singer to return. At least with him there was a chance she might actually learn something rather than watch the painful stumbling of a first time instructor.

"Does anyone know where Michael is?"

Wait, what?

She's still harping about Michael? Most teachers would have moved on after asking after a student two times; her questioning it three times had been a stretch, but Liz had been willing to cut her some slack since she was so obviously out of her depth. But four times? That certainly stood out as 'out of the ordinary' and given everything she had learned recently, she couldn't help but stare at their so-called sub suspiciously.

It was awfully convenient that Mr. Singer suddenly disappeared right after the shooting and the FBI started crawling all over town. They certainly hadn't made themselves at all conspicuous by running around in matching dark suits that just screamed 'federal officer.' I mean really, where did they get their ideas? Men in Black? Tommy Lee Jones and Will Smith you are not.

Seriously people, if you're trying to get information from the locals, it's called blending in; you should at least attempt it. It's still unlikely to work because small town that we are, it is a myth that we are all backwater yokels without a clue as to how the real world works, give us a little credit; nor are we all obsessed with aliens – well until recently. I mean honestly, who would have believed they were actually among us. Well, unless you were talking about the people from the crash festival whose cerebral functions never operated beyond an autonomic level.

While she happily admitted that the chance of other intelligent life potentially within their galaxy, not to mention the greater probability in the other thousands upon thousands of galaxies in the universe, (after all, to think that 'humans' were the only advanced species in a system of billions upon billions of stars squared to the nth degree, would just be downright arrogant) she really hadn't believed that they had contacted Earth.

I mean, why?

Looking at her schoolmates, Liz shuddered at the thought of what might befall their planet if one of them were the aliens' first contact. They might as well just euthanize themselves right now.

Sighing, she watched as, in unison, the class turned to Max, and repressed a groan of defeat. If he acted anything like he did in biology, where he so brilliantly ran off instead of applying a little logic (and potentially playing the situation up by 'misunderstanding' the instructions and asking Liz to use her cheek cells in place of his), they were doomed. After all, 'student on the left' is a subjective term based upon where you are positioned in the lab room. The teacher didn't specify if she meant her left or the student's left. It could have been easily explained away.

Of course,_ she_ would have been suspicious, but , hey, you healed a gunshot wound in my stomach with your bare hand, brainiac; I was already suspicious.

"Evans, right? Max Evans?" Topolsky asked, looking at Max pointedly.

"Yeah?" Max replied, glancing up, with what she thought was a look of innocent, polite interest, but didn't quite pan out in that vein, and couldn't help but cringe internally. Really, why not just jump up and down and scream 'I'm different!' and then hand the pretty, little alien hunter a nice, long, sharp knife so she can dissect you into little, teeny-tiny pieces and put us all out of our misery.

The world would indeed be a safer place because you would cease to exist and we wouldn't be subjected to your _unique_ brand of idiocy.

"Do you know where Michael Guerin is?"

"Uh, Michael's not really into Geometry."

That was…surprisingly coherent. Nice play of humor in order to deflect the blatant interest she had in Michael. Now if she continues to pursue this line of questioning, it would become immediately clear that Topolsky had more than roll call on her mind and Liz didn't think the supposed substitute was quite ready to out herself fully. Smirking silently as the rest of the class laughed at Max's joke, she slyly watched a brief flicker of annoyance flash through the blonde's eyes before she pasted a genial smile on her face.

Yeah, take that Miss Nosy.

Looking over at Max, she couldn't help the reluctant wave of admiration that passed through her at his response. Maybe he was starting to take this a little seriously? After all, he had to see just how odd the sub was acting and at such transparent timing. Looking into the flat, confounded look in his eyes, she doubted it.

"He's not into it," Topolsky repeated flatly.

That's what the man said, lady. Really do get over it.

"I guess I can understand that," the blonde continued with a tight smile, seemingly disappointed with the response. Really, what did she expect? That they were just going to pop out and say, 'yes, we're aliens; take me to your leader, as I'm sure you'll treat us kindly and with great respect.' Not. Well, actually, given Max's little flight in biology…maybe there was something to that. "Pretty uninspiring stuff. Let's open our books to page 228.

Liz flipped open her book, casting a long look at Max to see him busily opening his own, and mentally grimaced when he flashed a quick smile her way. She couldn't wait to get out of class so she could ask him what that had been all about and what his thoughts were on Topolsky.


	6. It's Me

**AN:** This is a classic example of how much my beta and I think alike. We began this series two years ago, and I had completely forgotten she'd written a drabble with this scene, so I wrote another. While it isn't exactly like **Paranoia**, it is funny that we have very similar thought processes. All of the actual spoken quotes were taken directly from episode #102, The Morning After.

Finally, there is a quote from Shakespeare's Hamlet used within the text. I'm sure it's fairly obvious which one as it is still in use today. Again, I do not claim this as my own.

* * *

><p><strong>It's Me<strong>

As they poured out of a routinely rousing period of geometry…okay, she couldn't even keep a straight face herself at that thought. After all, scientist that she was, even she couldn't find anything exciting about the class. While her analytical mind liked the absolute, concrete answers in her quickly destabilizing world, math was just math after all and there was no way to jazz it up no matter how the teachers tried year after year.

Sighing, she looked up, and seeing Max just ahead of her, quickly made her way to his side so she could ask him just what was up with that sub. She couldn't have been more blatantly obvious in her interest in Michael and it hadn't really seemed much to do with the absence itself. After all, she's a sub. She's only going to be here for a couple of days, so why should she care about the attendance of one student?

'Something is rotten in the state of Denmark' indeed.

Huffing a sigh of exasperation as they walked along silently, with Max just looking at her blankly, she decided to get this ball rolling in the hopes that she might be able to express her growing unease over Topolsky within the next millennium and greeted the Silent Wonder. "Hi."

"Hi," he replied shyly, and she immediately wanted impale herself on something sharp. In 0.3 seconds at that; a new record! Obviously, he was going to go the I'm-oblivious-to-everything-but-me route. Again. So…his normal state of being rather than the wiser, hypersensitive, what-on-Earth-does-that-sub-want-with-Michael? state of being that any rational person…oh right. She forgot rational and reality were dirty words in Maxland.

"How's it going?

"Good, um, you know, things are just things are just normal, you know?" she replied, stumbling on her words in utter disbelief.

How do you think it's going you unremitting moron? I was shot just days ago, healed by alien powers and now I have the sheriff hounding me, my friends are all nuts because they either know your secret or desperately want to know it, although they really aren't even sure what the secret is, just that there is one and…oh, and now we have a nosy sub who has been asking leading questions in regards to Michael whereabouts. You remember him, right? Your brethren? Best friend? Fellow not-of-this-Earth being, as you so quaintly call yourself? And to top of it all off, you have managed to stick your head even further up your ass; if that's at all possible. So everything is…actually…

"Completely normal."

"Good," Max breathed blithely with that cloyingly amicable smile pasted on his insipid mouth and continuing down the corridor as if there wasn't a thing wrong in his world.

Which, considering the big, fat, happy bubble of denial he lived in, there probably wasn't. Really she'd like to visit it someday; it must be a spectacular place in comparison to reality. Ugh, on second thought, watching the way he was looking at her out of the corner of his eye, slash that thought; she really didn't want to know what occupied the vacuous, waste of space he termed a brain.

Right. Back to business.

"Um, was that weird?" she asked hesitantly, afraid of what might come spewing from his mouth this time. He had seemed to play it off well in the classroom, but she really didn't hold onto the hope for a repeat of such shrewdness. It went against everything she had essentially gleaned of his character the past couple of weeks. He was more the stick-your-head-in-the-sand-and-pretend-it-didn't-exist sort than the let's-form-a-viable-plan-so-that-we-are-a-few-steps-ahead-of-the-game breed.

Like Michael, who she knew was stalking the sheriff's department for additional information on their illustrious visitors. But something like that actually had a degree of logical deduction attached to it and well….

"What?" he asked dumbly, his expression blank as he turned to her, interrupting her inner tirade.

What do you mean what? Oh, of all the…

"That substitute just asked all of those questions about Michael," she prompted, only to have it fall on deaf ears, again, as he continued to stare at her completely bewildered as to where she was attempting to lead him. She knew that she had put too much faith in him when he had made that joke in class. This was more like it.

"What was that about?" she tried again, hoping against hope it might spur some form of discerning cognitive ability in that elephantine head. Weren't aliens supposed to be of a higher intellect than her species considering the fact that they had mastered the ability to travel intergalactically…wait, was that a even word? Whatever. But, obviously he fell short of the mark or was in a different line when they were handing out cerebral abilities.

Although which one, she couldn't be sure from looking at him. Likely ego.

"I'm sure she was just taking attendance," Max shrugged indolently, sending her a placating grin as they continued their trek down the hall.

"Right."

Right. Because substitutes usually spend several moments trying to track down the movements of an errant student they don't know, and frankly, shouldn't even care to know since their job is only to fill in for the regular instructor for a few days. In the normal sense, a substitute wouldn't be here long enough to form attachments or develop relationships with the students because they are, as the word implies, temporary. I dare you to name one other sub that we've had in all our years of schooling that has shown such dogged interest in a student. Bet you can't.

Forget it. It wasn't worth the migraine that would likely ensue if she tried explaining even this simple concept to a half-wit.

"Liz, don't worry about it," he sighed mournfully. Again with the romantic hero gig; this was seriously getting clichéd. "No one's suspicious of Michael. It's me."

Liz looked at him for a long moment, barely quelling the urge to gape at him open-mouthed and was completely stupefied and incensed by his utter arrogance and lack of concern towards the implications of a _substitute's_ aggressive interest in Michael; this in spite the fact that there seemed to be no scholastic reason behind it. Right, it was all about Max. Because, obviously, no one would remember the two additional six-year-old children found near the abandoned crash site at the same time as he; nor would they, oh, piece certain known facts together in a logical and linear fashion to realize that if something was off about Max, it might apply Isabel and Michael as well.

Not at all. After all, it's common place to find three naked children running around in the desert without a soul to watch them.

Not to mention that those same overly inquisitive people wouldn't reason out the tempting probability, that while Max and Isabel were relatively safe due to their private adoption and hidden behind closed doors by fiercely protective parents, Michael was a sitting duck as a ward of the state with a foster father who had more interest in his booze than the welfare of a child. A man that wouldn't hesitate to 'sell' Michael out for a quick buck if it meant that he could still have his booze and get rid of his unwanted charge at the same time; with only a nominal investigation by the state.

After all, if the feds could cover up an _entire spaceship_ crashing right out in the _open_ with only whispered supposition plaguing them, then how difficult would it be to make one troubled teen disappear without a trace?

Why wouldn't they be interested in Michael?

Oh, right, because it wasn't Max and Max is apparently the center of the entire known universe and the only not-of-this-Earth person of interest. Whatever. It wasn't really worth pursuing at the moment; better to smile, nod and agree with Max now and take matters into her own hands later.

"Okay," she smiled weakly, quickly walking away before she could bludgeon the self-centered creep with her books, or actually, maybe Maria's books since it wasn't like she was using them anyway, all the while her mind was frantically coming up with a contingency plan. God knows, if left to Max, they'd all be dead within the week.


End file.
